<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>No Remedy for Memory by moony_julymoonlight</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23933272">No Remedy for Memory</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/moony_julymoonlight/pseuds/moony_julymoonlight'>moony_julymoonlight</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst and Humor, Attempt at Humor, Co-workers, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Humor, Mental Health Issues, Not Epilogue Compliant, Post-Hogwarts, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Snark, dramione - Freeform, slow burn draco malfoy/hermione granger</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 22:20:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>20,199</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23933272</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/moony_julymoonlight/pseuds/moony_julymoonlight</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It has been five years since the War. With everyone appearing to have moved on, Hermione endeavours to fix the unfortunate consequences caused by casting the memory charm on her parents while Draco struggles to find his place in a society that does not forgive or forget.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. All Alone In The Moonlight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Disclaimer: I do not own these characters and claim no profit from this work. Credit where credit is due to JK Rowling. I have been reading fanfic for 10 years and used to post some before on fanfiction.net but recently deleted those after cringing at how childish they were (well, I was 12). So here's my take on these characters, a decade later.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> Every now and then  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> the stars align,  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> boy and girl, meet by the great design </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Hermione Granger liked to see the world around her as if it were a giant puzzle piece. </p><p>Every living being, nature, the elements, and magic all had a role which eventually served a purpose that helped her understand it as a puzzle. Whether it was a significant role such as becoming the best friend of the Chosen One who would eventually rid the world of an evil menace or a role as trivial as managing to send reminders. </p><p>Some would argue that evil menaces like Voldemort existed to disrupt the natural balance of the cosmos and were deviants that needed to be eradicated. Initially, Hermione couldn’t help but agree with them. However, as her mind grew more curious, she started considering the perspectives that she had brushed aside when they did not fit into her viewpoint and grudgingly accepted their utility. </p><p>After the war, she had spent years working on sorting the charm she had placed on her parents. She consulted every possible medi-witch and healer with expertise in the mind. It was a difficult situation as the charm had been placed on a pair of muggles and muggles usually did not require reversal of the charm. This caused her to doubt the efficacy of the countercharm - had it been developed using only magical beings? Could she risk trying it on her parents? </p><p>So after carrying out extensive work for four and a half years after the war, she was now in Australia to reverse the spell she had cast on her parents. Heart pounding, body sweating, hands trembling, mouth quivering, she stood there before her parents who regarded her with blankness. She still stood there, her wand shaking as she cast the spell and the blankness did not turn into love, familiarity and recognition. </p><p>“Are you sure you aren’t lost, dear?” inquired her mother who did not know she was her mother. Hermione was shaking, her heart felt it was breaking into two. She managed to mumble a response before she hurried away, leaving her parents (who did not know they were her parents) to remark at the young odd woman they had come across. </p><p>Why did it not work? </p><p>She seethed, breaking into a run. She had <em>perfected </em>the counteracting charm! As was common with the nature of the original spell she cast, the antidote could not simply be the same spell for everyone. While she had used magic on them, the human body, specifically, the human mind was its own mystery and there was no telling how her parents would have responded to the general antidote. There were so many factors to study, consider and deliberate as she examined her spell and the brain scans she had snuck from her parents one night while they had been asleep. Using both, she spent her eighth year at Hogwarts studying the influence of her magic on her parents’ amygdala, hippocampus, cerebellum, and the prefrontal cortex. She spent the next few years after that working with various mind healers, trialling and testing various countercurses before she was confident that her research had reached its conclusion. </p><p>So why had it not worked? It was supposed to work! </p><p>How had she failed? She sank into a bench, the rain pattering onto the pavement with the winds howling around her, playing a symphony that reflected her state of mind. A few passersby rushing towards shelter from the torrential rain, glanced at her and then at the sky in bewilderment. Was the girl in her senses? </p><p>Hermione paid no attention as she continued to get soaked by the clouds. She clearly overlooked something and the countercurse was not as perfect as she thought. There was something missing - some latent variable that she had not contemplated. Either that or her magic in the original spell was resisting any magical efforts to undo the charm…as she had originally intended it to. Had she not considered <em>she </em>would need to undo it one day? That must be the missing arbitrary element. </p><p>Hermione abruptly stood up, apparating and landing in a crowded club in Knockturn Alley. It was a seedy one, the grim covering the bartop table was enough to send a shudder through her body but she had no choice. She didn’t want to wake up to a post in the <em> Daily Prophet </em>the next day reporting her activities in a club more prudent for her. Nobody wanted to <em>see </em>war-heroine, best friend of the Chosen One, and role model for young witches and wizards alike, draining the contents of liquor and letting her true emotions brought out in the open. It would raise murmurs of questions and concerns. </p><p>Questions and concerns which she did not need or care for. With a quick <em>scourgify, </em>Hermione placed her elbows on the table and waited for the glass of the strongest drink she could think of. Throwing it down her throat, her eyes watered and she suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to cry. The past few years of her life had been a waste. She had failed. </p><p>She placed another order and cast a drying spell on herself. Nursing the drink that did nothing to comfort the choking realization that she had made herself an orphan, she suddenly recalled the words of functionalism. The foundational theory upon which she based her musings. </p><p>Everything and everyone served a purpose, she thought numbly as the crowd around her chattered loudly and excitedly. She caught many wands in her face as many nudged her to get through to the bartender to summon their drinks.</p><p>So if that proposition was taken to be true...her parents now served the role of a reminder. A reminder that she had let herself become too engrossed in the Wizarding world. She had chosen the wizarding world over them and now fate challenged her by letting that same wizarding world fail her parents and herself. A reminder that her parents did not know who she was. They would never recall her. She had made sure of it because she did not fail. With a stifled sob, she realised that it was her fear of failure of not being able to erase her parents’ memories properly in the first place that she could not undo the erasure of her parents’ memories now. </p><p>Hermione barely noticed as a witch jostled into her and a drink sloshed down her front. She really became her own worst enemy at that moment. It was a heart-wrenching realization, understanding how her weakness had hurt her the most. And her parents, she reminded herself. Had they any idea of what she had done to them and to herself? </p><p>Functioning on autopilot, she ducked to avoid a large spell (probably aimed at a cheating lover caught in the throes of passion in the arms of another at the dancefloor) and pursed her lips. </p><p>So yes, everyone served a role and a purpose. It was all part of a larger design of the universe and in the grand scheme of things. She did not know whether those roles and purposes had consequences and greater women than she had sought to answer that question but if everyone did and acted the way they were supposed to then that would only lead to a functional society. </p><p>Hermione barely reacted as a wizard, who clearly had a few, leered at her and made an obscene gesture. She simply shot a stun in his direction and did not seem fazed when the witches next to her whooped and applauded. A burly man appeared before her, sighing as he lifted the frozen wizard. </p><p>So if evil exists then it was only to show what good could be, she reasoned. And if her parents did not remember her then that also signified her dilemmas: her success was her lack of failure then and her biggest failure now was her lack of failure. After all, if she had done a shoddy job in the first place and had been easily able to undo the memory charm that she had placed then that meant she failed the first time. She did not know whether that option would have been better. </p><p>She wanted to <em>scream</em>, to let out all her pent up feelings and frustrations. Why, why did everyone get to move on but her? Why was she still paying for an action (done with the right intentions but with disastrous consequences) that she had done years ago? </p><p>“Granger,” came a surprised voice close next to her. Hermione closed her eyes before plastering a smile on her face, hoping she looked human enough for the intruder to only exchange social pleasantries before they moved on, finding her as uninteresting as the reporters who sometimes chased her as she walked from home to work and work to home in hopes they might spot something “entertaining” in her life. She also was dismayed she had been recognised <em>here </em>of all people. Surely, most occupants in the pub would still hate her enough to not care what she was doing here. </p><p>Turning, she was brought face to face with Draco Malfoy of all people. He seemed to be settling and was just as stunned to see her as she was to see him. When had she last seen him? Not his trial...He had been at Hogwarts like her for their eighth year but he had gone at lengths to stay away and keep to himself while Hermione had thrown herself into her project. </p><p>She squinted to discern his appearance, he looked different. When had the pub installed the strobe lights and pulsating glitter balls that frequented muggle clubs? For a second, she wondered how they got around integrating electrical lights with magic before deciding she was too spent to devote time understanding that. The lights turned red and she watched with interest the effect on Draco. He looked like a demon; his silvery hair looking like a bloody waterfall as the strands softly fell around his face. His eyes looked beady and his mouth gleamed red. Within a blink, the light had changed, shaking her out of her thoughts. </p><p>“Malfoy,” she acknowledged, running her finger over the rim of her glass before scoffing. Leave it to fate to ensure Malfoy was forever present to witness her life falling apart which seemed to be <em>his </em>purpose. </p><p>“Didn’t know you left behind the golden titles and ranks bestowed upon you to come to muck it in the squatters with the rest of us,” he drawled. When their eyes met, he smirked slightly. </p><p>“One must do what they can for humility,” she said somberly, gulping down her drink. Perhaps, she was a little intoxicated. Beyond the time she had testified for him in his trial, she could not recall any occasion where a conversation between Malfoy and her had not broken into a violent fight or a verbal spar between herself, her best friends and her bully. </p><p>“Where would the world be without a modest saviour like you?” He was shaking his head, his expression amused. </p><p>“Better off,” she said unthinkingly before looking away. She clutched her glass tighter, the liquid sloshing around as she tilted it again to her mouth. A saviour. She had saved everyone but herself and the two people who needed it the most. </p><p>Draco did not reply and they fell into a long silence which should have been uncomfortable but was not. Hermione couldn’t be more grateful - she did not want to be bothered and she felt too tired to play her role tonight. She needed to unwind and understand the reasons behind her mistake so she could fix it. </p><p>After another refill, Hermione planned her next steps. First, she needed to go back to the research and confirm what she had missed. There must be something else beyond her own intention when she’d cast the spell. Then she needed to head into work and explain to her boss that yes, yet again she was shifting the focus of her research and development to cater to her new direction. Getting approval would not be too difficult - after all, Hermione had not petitioned to receive a time-turner during her time at Hogwarts to be swayed by rejections now. But the question was: would her new direction even work? It was an idea she had toyed around with even when she was in the midst of planning her trip to Australia. But...there was little evidence to it -</p><p>“If only,” Draco suddenly said lowly, his voice betraying the rueful smile that was creeping upon his face. Hermione started, she had forgotten he was even there. “We had known alcohol was the best way for us to behave decently and not hex or insult each other.” </p><p>“True, the presence of alcohol does wonders for making your personality wholly tolerable.” Despite the unpleasant words, they lacked the usual bite and edge that had accompanied their exchanges before tonight. </p><p>“Or maybe it has increased your endurance for it,” his tone was casual but he couldn’t help and be curious. Here she was, Hermione <em>fucking </em> Granger, war heroine, the world’s Golden Girl and Gryffindor prima donna. She was wearing her muggle clothing with no robes, her wild hair looked like a <em> confringo </em>had exploded in it and her face appeared small and pinched.</p><p>Hermione’s expression twisted to suggest she agreed with him but she did not say anything, her eyes glazed.  She was without her two wonder twins and was spending the night in a club which was known for its lechery and nefarious environment. It had never seemed the type of place she would be caught dead in but again what did he know? Perhaps, there was trouble in paradise with the weasel she seemed to favour. “What brings you here, of all places?” </p><p>With that, Hermione suddenly sobered up. She had failed her parents and she was sitting here, talking to her school nemesis as if nothing was wrong.<em> Everything </em>was wrong. Did she forget the ordeal she went through a few hours ago? Her parents were <em>depending </em>on her and here she was, wasting precious time away. </p><p>Draco watched as her expression became instantly guarded, her hands held together so tightly, it was a wonder the knuckles did not snap. Perhaps, she remembered the ways he had made her life hell and his role in the war. For a long time, she did not answer as she hurriedly finished her drink, choking a little as the liquid burned its way down.  </p><p>“Atonement,” Hermione finally said, looking up from her drink to meet his gaze. Perhaps his purpose was to distract her but she could not be distracted. How could she be still sitting here? She needed to get home and start anew. She had to book appointments with the medi-witches and healers she needed to consult with. She had to rush to the library and go over the textbooks and journals which she had discarded before. She needed to go back to her project with a fresh perspective. She needed to initiate the approval conversation with her boss. There was so much to do and she needed to start <em>now </em>if she wanted to be successful rather than repeat her failed attempt today. </p><p>Hermione’s response indicated that she was cognizant of the reparations he still needed to pay for his role in the war. Reparations not just to her but to the entire wizarding society; never mind that he paid every single day when he got constant reminders that did not seem to evade him. Draco smiled curtly at her before raising his glass at her, the action seemed mocking but Hermione was not paying attention. “You better leave,” he added as he gestured at the crowd which were suddenly interested in watching them: war heroine and ex-Death Eater. </p><p>Surely, being seen with him would be enough to send her reputation down to tatters, he thought grimly as Hermione stood, her expression far away. She was intelligent enough to know that. Drinking here was one thing, drinking with him was altogether very different. Even <em>he </em>wouldn’t have associated with himself. </p><p>Without another word, Hermione walked away from him and he stood for his leave too. He had been noticed and it would only be a few minutes before he would be politely but firmly asked to leave. He paid for his drinks before realising that in her hurry, she had left hers unpaid. Well, it was the least he could do. Paying for the drinks of a war heroine would surely make up for all the torment he had caused her in their past, he thought drily. </p><p>At the doorway, Hermione abruptly paused, looking back through the rowdy crowds of dancers. In her rush to get started on her project and fix her mistake, she had forgotten to bid farewell to Draco. The spot where they had been seated was vacant, she noted, trying to see past the crowds of wizards, witches and magical beings dancing in the pulsating lights, looking for a flash of pale silvery hair. Well, what did it matter? They ran in very different circles, she would never see him again.  </p><p>Unable to find him, she strode outside, instantly becoming sober as she warily flashed her wand into the dark shadows surrounding her. Nothing and no one appeared to be hiding under their cover; they no longer did. Glancing behind her once again before shaking her head, she headed into the muggy night air of a summer evening. </p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Back To That Place</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next day, Hermione waved her wand at a mermaid statue that marked her time of arrival at work - quite unfashionably late - and had barely settled into her cubicle when a memo landed upon her desk. She ignored it, instead ducking to quickly down the contents of a Sobriety Potion. </p><p>She had stumbled home late, stepped on Crookshanks who clawed at her leg and entered Harry’s room before remembering he no longer lived there. She had then drunk herself into a stupor, guilty remembered her urgent need to start researching and woken up with several wrinkled pages stuck on her face due to some drool. Crookshanks was watching her with severe judgement on his face as he perched on her recliner, sticking his arse in her direction and pointedly looking away. She had then started at the time - she was <em> so </em>late - before waving a freshening charm on herself, left food for Crookshanks and had warded and locked up her house before apparating to work. </p><p>Another memo landed at her desk, this time accompanied by several owls. Hermione stroked the beak of the one closest to her as she waved her wand so the letters all arranged themselves neatly on her desk. She was in the midst of feeding the owls treats that another memo landed at her desk. </p><p>Really, it was <em> only </em>eight-oh-twenty am. No reason to get worked up that she was twenty minutes late. Granted it was out of character of Hermione to be late but she had a terrible night, just like any sane human being would. She ignored the latest intrusion and set about arranging her planner for the day. She had a few interviews lined up, a meeting to approve the proposal that her boss had called “ghastly” and an early morning session pencilled in with her boss for which she was -</p><p>Hermione groaned, glancing at her wand. She had charmed it to display the time, date, day and weather just like a digital clock. Sometimes, it beeped with reminders. She was also in the midst of creating a charm to have it behave like a pager - a fascinating muggle invention that was becoming quite popular. </p><p>Ron had wet himself laughing when she had proudly unveiled the wand charm to him and Harry. “Can’t you tell the time, date, day and weather from actually seeing and experiencing? Why can’t you just get a remembrall for the reminders? Blimey, imagine needing a wand to tell you that!” he had guffawed as Harry had fought hard to hide his smile. </p><p>To their surprise, her little charm had become increasingly popular. George had begun to sell it at his shop, found it successful and she now routinely received a nice sum from the sales. Ron had shut up quite quickly after that. </p><p>On cue, her boss’ door down the hall opened up. She imagined that if her life was the plot of the films she enjoyed watching as a child, dramatic evil music would play right about now as the lair of the villain was finally revealed. </p><p>“Hermione!” barked the nasal voice of her lovely boss, Mason. Besides her, her fellow colleagues who were regularly subjected to the cruel and tyrannical nature of Mason shot her sympathetic glances. </p><p>If Voldemort served the role of an evil menace needed to be wiped out, Mason served the role of a potential lawsuit and murder accusation which would result in an Azkaban sentence for Hermione. Vigilante justice was strictly frowned upon in wizarding societies.</p><p>Hermione flicked her wand to gather the relevant scrolls and files before heading down the hall. Once again, the door shot open. Seeing Hermione, Mason pursed his lips before glaring. “Taking all the time dawdling in the corridor, are we?” </p><p>They settled around into the room, Mason shrugging off his jacket to show his latest muscles and Hermione pretending to cough to prevent her sudden urge to laugh.</p><p>“Everything OK?” he inquired as he summoned his tea set, still standing as he stirred the sugar. </p><p>She nodded.</p><p>He snorted. “I supposed something was wrong for you to be late today.”</p><p>Good God, it had only been twenty minutes for the first time in her two years of employment with him. “I overslept.” </p><p>He did not reply to that, merely settling into his seat with the air of someone extremely busy and important. “You wanted to see me?”</p><p>“Actually, it was you who booked our session,” Hermione reminded him before glancing down at the notes in her lap. “I’ve only one single update to report from the last meeting.”</p><p>“And what is that?”</p><p>Hermione still felt her heart sink as she quietly said, “It failed.”</p><p>Pursing his lips, Mason stared at a spot over her shoulder. While not exactly a competent person per se as he had received the titular role of director for the private research and development firm they worked in due to his fortune and nepotism, Mason was a skilled businessman and had a knack for spotting opportunities that would benefit him and his firm the most. For that, Hermione grudgingly admired him even as she privately felt that Mason lacked the technical skills required to act as director for the various research and development projects that the firm was working in. “Is there a new angle now?” Mason finally said, setting his cup down.</p><p>“I...well, I’ve had an idea last night. It is not exactly concrete as it is still an emerging field.”</p><p>“Is it promising?” Mason was looking directly at her, his lips still pursed. </p><p>“Yes.” And it was. While Hermione had not gotten enough of a chance to read up more than a few journal articles last night, she did feel confident enough that it was promising. It would be. </p><p><em> That’s what you thought the last time too, </em>a voice in the back of her mind said. Hermione ignored it as she again felt the pang of failure in her heart and stared at her boss who looked sceptical. “It’s promising and if you approve of it, I can begin work on it right away.”</p><p>Mason nodded slowly. “I think it should be fine,” he began. </p><p>Hermione fought a grin, she had been so sure her funding was about to be cut. Granted, it would have been unfair as she’d been the one to secure the grant contract from the Ministry and the contract was solely awarded to her department which consisted of just Hermione and the occasional seventh year who needed some work experience so technically Mason could not have cut it. But he’d been known to direct funds to other projects once it was apparent that one was not successful. </p><p>“But Hermione,” Mason’s no-nonsense voice brought her back to the conversation. “I think you should realise that while everyone is keen to invest in your ideas for now because you’ve the war heroine and being Harry Potter’s best friend thing going for you, they may not always feel that way.”</p><p>Hermione’s lips pressed in a thin line. She knew exactly what the man was saying beyond that: Mason wanted her department to start producing, implementing and bringing in results in the form of investments (while people were still interested in her) already instead of just researching. “Noted.”</p><p>Mason waved a hand at her, Hermione took the cue of dismissal and was nearly out the door before he called her name once again. </p><p>“What about the hiring of a second for your department?” </p><p>“I’ll hire someone by the end of the day - have a few interviews lined up.” </p><p>“Bring whoever is shortlisted in, I want to quiz them too.” Gritting her teeth, Hermione hurried outside and let out a small breath she did not know she was holding. The man had to be involved in everything. His involvement ranged from having a say in a project he knew nothing about to what brand of toilet paper should the firm stock in the loos. </p><p>Snatching her planner and various scrolls into her arms, she headed into her little broom cupboard of an office which had just about enough room for two tiny desks. It was a tight squeeze and also where she was supposed to be interviewing a few contenders for the position that had been opened up in her department. While all the other departments in the firm had teams and clear directions in the path they were taking, it was Hermione who worked independently in hers. </p><p>Her department had been specifically created for her to test and trial the various research and magic she needed to reverse the spell on her parents. Mason was agnostic of Hermione’s motivation, he had barely glanced at Hermione’s fifty-six paged proposal with an annotated bibliography before hiring her. Her research really could change the way magic was practised on muggles and lead to interesting developments on the combination of magical and non-magical innovations. At least, that is what she had pitched. At that moment, her only concern had been to acquire legitimization so she could continue carrying on her work as the Ministry suddenly required registration of all magical research, and private research work was regarded with suspicion. </p><p>While Hermione believed it was due to her merit that she had been hired, it was also quite staggering that Mason felt he should warn her that it was her fame due to her role in the war and her friendship with Harry that attracted investors rather than her brilliant ideas. She snorted as she even thought of it before doubt began to sweep into her thoughts. Well, were her ideas actually brilliant? Or were they deemed brilliant due to her person? She could not ignore that it may be partially due to who she was. But really, what could she do to ensure that the opportunities, favours or investments upon her or her work were based on merit rather than things done in the past? </p><p>Daphne Greengrass popped her head into the room. “Oh hello, heard you were in the lair earlier.”</p><p>Hermione nodded, glancing at the name of the first candidate that was due to arrive. “I barely restrained himself.”</p><p>Laughing, the other witch stepped into the room. Of all the things Hermione had expected, a friendship with a Slytherin after the war was the least probable of all of them. But when she had begun working here, Daphne was one of the few colleagues who were not star-struck by her. The two had struck up a light friendship, bonding over ridiculing their boss. “Your candidate’s in, I’ll just send her your way.”</p><p>Hermione nodded before placing her hands neatly on the table. She had to focus, the person she hired would be closely assisting her with her project and the project was quite literally close to her heart. Even Daphne did not exactly know why she was working here and Hermione did not feel particularly inclined to share but a new person could change everything. A fresh pair of eyes would definitely help. </p>
<hr/><p>At the end of the day, Hermione was sitting dejectedly still in the meeting room. While the candidates were smart in various ways, she did not feel anyone had matched her expectations. Or even her requirements. She’d given each of them a test which she had developed to assess their suitability for the project they would be working in; it required a thorough knowledge of an array of fields and while she was quite open-minded as she had read through the answers, she felt disappointed in their unoriginality and practicality. She supposed she was being too difficult but really, what was she supposed to do? She could not take any risks. </p><p>She had insisted on Mason to advertise a higher pay but he hadn’t which is why they got candidates of a certain level in their careers and thus, the responses. The pay was as much as hers which wasn’t anything to brag about. She supposed it would be insulting if she had asked theoretical and magical proponents from various disciplines to apply for a position that paid entry-level but came on with senior-level responsibilities. </p><p>Hermione had tried reasoning with Mason several times but given the miserly state of the man - never mind that they would be using the grant money that was allocated to <em> her </em> project - it was an impossible feat. So because he did not listen, she did not get the candidates she needed and that could really jeopardise her work. She suddenly found herself glowering as she debated her next steps. </p><p>Last night while Hermione had read over some of her research, she couldn't help but feel a little inspired. Maybe it had been the drinks that made her feel like her task was no longer impossible but she had been struck with a fascination she could not shake. Her previous research and work were based on undoing the spell by first understanding the effects of it on various parts of her parents’ brains. While that should have worked theoretically, it hadn’t which led Hermione to consider a new pathway. The spell seemed to have only eliminated memories that involved Hermione, however, the memories that did not directly involve Hermione but had mere mentions or thoughts of her, those were still present with increased blurriness and an amnesia-like fugue which her parents were compelled by her spell to ignore. </p><p>That drove her hope right now - if she could somehow get those memories to not be ignored, it could lead her parents to suspect something was wrong. And everyone knew that once human minds were subject to doubt, the mind planted seeds to further strengthen that doubt and arise to conclusions best suited to fit their doubt. </p><p>Her lips pressed into a thin line as she stared at her hands. How deplorable of her. Not only had she taken their memories away but now she would have to resort to making them doubt their sanity. </p><p><em> Maybe you should give up </em> , said a little voice inside her. <em> They are happy, they don’t feel the pain of missing you because you never existed. </em>Hermione swallowed a lump in her throat as she concentrated on the bright light of her lamp so she would not cry. She could do that, she had thought of doing that when she’d first travelled to Australia and witnessed her parents pass by her without a hint of recognition. But it had felt almost criminal - to let them live as it were when she knew what she had stolen from them. It was nearly a question of morality: choose to let them live in ignorance of their lives together which she’d taken away so callously? What would that make of her? </p><p>Her hair had exploded out of the bun she had swept it into in the morning and she sighed, deciding to wrap it up and report the news to Mason who would definitely not be thrilled. She was just picking up her briefcase when the door flew open and he stood there with an extremely irritated expression on his face. </p><p>“Granger, why do you look like a corpse?” he demanded before shaking his head. “Anyways, I have another candidate if you’ll interview him. Unless you’ve hired someone.” </p><p>“I haven’t." He rolled his eyes and muttered something that suspiciously sounded like “swotty and choosy.” Choosing to ignore him, she was unable to hide the surprise in her voice. “<em> You </em> found a candidate?”</p><p>Mason glared at her. “Have you suddenly become deaf?” Shaking his head, he continued. “A friend referenced him...Suppose it won’t do much harm if you talk to him.” </p><p>Hermione’s eyebrows were raised. “Just who-” She stopped just as a very familiar pale blond person entered the room. He looked extremely uncomfortable, she noted as he stared sullenly after Mason. Her little office suddenly felt too crowded. </p><p>“Malfoy,” she said carefully, hinting he should not mention anything of last night. Mason would never let her live it down if he somehow got to know that she’d been late because she was drinking, of all the things. </p><p>“Granger,” he inclined his head before a smirk took over his face. “Miss me?” </p><p>Hermione just stared at him. What happened to him over the course of a few hours? They’d been perfectly cordial yesterday yet Draco appeared both aloof and bitter today - much like he usually did before. Except yesterday, she hadn’t detected any of that. He quickly sat, staring with disdain. Probably at the size of her “office”.</p><p>Sighing, she settled herself back onto her seat and unpacked her briefcase. Mason summoned a chair and seated himself next to her. It was an extremely tight fit, she scowled as Mason’s knees bumped into her thighs. </p><p>“Alright, well, tell me about yourself,” she said, trying to inject a tone of neutrality in her voice. Glancing down at her colour-coded planner, Hermione wondered what Malfoy's role and purpose were. As a puzzle piece, what did he complete? Both sides of the war despised him: he was a coward but what had he made of himself after? </p><p>He had the Malfoy fortune (what little of it was left anyway after all those war reparations) and had served a four-year sentence in community building and wizarding support services but she did not know anything else. As she had become immersed in her research, she had not really actively kept up with her classmates from school. It was only if the name was mentioned in conversations with Harry, Ron and Ginny that she learned who got promoted, married or became a parent.</p><p>If Hermione was to let her superficial assessment, bias and their shared history cloud her judgement then she supposed Malfoy was nothing but what was pitifully in front of her: a once-revered now-ostracised man of a once-rich and famous family who needed to rely on his merit and abilities instead of his name and fortune. </p><p>Draco was watching her closely, the ghost of a smirk on his face. “Don’t you already know me?”</p><p>“It’s a formality. Just tell me anything that you think could help you get a job here,” interrupted Mason before she could respond. </p><p>As Draco answered, Hermione, nodding to encourage him to keep going, she felt frayed. Would she hire him to assist her in the project? She should but it suddenly felt like a huge conflict of interest given that it was exactly due to his side that she had sent away her parents in the first place. </p><p>After a particularly difficult question where Mason interrogated Draco about the decline in his examination scores from sixth year onwards, Hermione felt the need to intervene. “Right, well, I guess you can take the test.” She waved her wand and a parchment appeared in front of him. “Take as long as you’ll need, we’ll be outside.” </p><p>Pacing outside her office, Hermione tried to tame her hair back into the bun but gave up when it refused to be tucked. Mason was frowning at her hair; he’d frequently mentioned that she should not let it down as it appeared “unprofessional.” In retaliation, Hermione had jinxed his official engraved quills to automatically sign his name as “Dickwad Penisman” which he had to stop using for obvious reasons and he still did not suspect her. </p><p>“Should we hire him?” Mason jerked a thumb at her office door. </p><p>Hermione bit her lip. His test scores, while excellent up to sixth year, suddenly dropped to mere acceptances after. She could attribute those to the situation of the wizarding world but then she really would need to lay her entire judgement on his solution to her test. She was not sure how she felt he would do. Despite the abysmal scores in his later years, he had been excellent only second to her in school. She recalled seeing him in several of her difficult classes too and well, he did try to murder Dumbledore in ingenious ways, she thought darkly. “I’ll wait till I see his answer before deciding that.” </p><p>It made her feel a little blindsided; she’d looked up and researched each of the candidates before they came in today. She’d even checked out their references and had prepared detailed notes on why she rejected them when the candidates had left. Malfoy had just shown up and was now doing her test. She wondered if she was following due process and guilty clasped her hands. If Mason objected, he would say so, she thought. He actually brought Malfoy in so it was not her fault. </p><p>Mason rubbed his jaw as he still stared at her office door. “It was Pansy who called in the favour for him.” Looking at her surprised expression which he deduced as impressed, he nodded. “Yeah, Pansy Parkinson, editor of <em> Witch Weekly, </em>is a friend of mine. But I should have known better…” he trailed off. </p><p>If you’d known better then maybe you should not have brought him in at all, she thought as she tried not to look exasperated. “Why?”</p><p>He shrugged. “Well, we can’t hire him, can we? He’s a Death Eater. The youngest Death Eater too. It certainly won’t look good, and it will raise questions on our reputation. Plus, we have so many muggle-borns and half-bloods working here.” </p><p>“Ex-Death Eater,” she said steadily, still pacing. She hadn’t even considered that but she supposed she hadn’t since Malfoy had refused to identify her, Harry and Ron at Malfoy Manor. Ignoring the faint sting she felt in her wrist and the slight trembling in her hands as she tried not to get drawn into the flashback, she supposed he was clear in the eyes of the Wizengamot so it should be enough for them. Besides, she and her friends would have never testified for him if they didn’t genuinely believe he was still a Death Eater. </p><p>“What?” He stared at her as if she had just uttered something in a different language. She felt her patience wearing thin, the sobriety potion wearing off or it was just the sudden awareness of having to deal with someone as annoying as Mason. </p><p>“Given that Voldemort,” cue the flinch, “is dead and certainly, no longer active. Malfoy is no longer a Death Eater. In fact, his family switched sides during the war and were critical in helping the Ministry to locate those in hiding.” </p><p>“Granger, I know you have a soft spot for all kinds of underdogs in society but I just think we are better off.” Mason was certainly being prejudiced, she thought with derision. It’s not like Malfoy was publicly sprouting his pro-pureblood opinions now or would start to if they hired him. </p><p>She breathed deeply. “Look, Mason. If Malfoy manages to pass the test - which I doubt as I made it myself and not one person has managed to give me a satisfactory answer today - then we’ll need to hire him on his merit. Besides,” she said, a wild idea coming to her head. At times like these, Hermione often tricked and appealed to Mason’s concern for reputation, image and business continuity which usually worked. He wanted to be doing something trendy even before it was trendy.  “Think of how good it will look for you.” </p><p>Mason looked confused. “Have you lost your marbles?”</p><p>“It would work into the tolerant society ideal that the Ministry wants us to participate in. Everyone would consider our firm extremely unprejudiced. Everyone would talk about how we give second-chances, especially to those who may not deserve it,” she finished, examining her nails. She hid her smile as she watched Mason consider the idea. </p><p>“Well, I guess there is no harm.” </p><p>At the sound of a throat clearing, they turned to see Draco had joined them, holding up the parchment. Hermione read it quickly, her eyes widening at each sentence. Malfoy had crisply provided the case study of the amalgamation of Charms, Herbology, and Potions to develop a healing solution to a proposed issue of a parasitic venom that would spread through the brain. He’d even provided Arithmancy numbers to predict the reliability of his solution. She looked up at him, he was staring into the corner, his face impassive. </p><p>“This is excellent work.” She paused, noting the sudden tension on his shoulders and face as he kept looking away. “I’d like to offer you a spot if you’ll accept.” </p><p>For a long time, Draco did not answer. She watched as the tension seemed to increase on his shoulders and face until his expression became extremely pinched. Observing him, Hermione wondered whether Mason had been right and he was against working with her. Maybe he’d been expecting to be placed in a different department? Well, too bad, she concluded. They all got handed difficult things and if he wasn’t okay working with her then he could always refuse. </p><p>To her astonishment, he nodded. “I accept.” </p><p>Mason sighed as he summoned the paperwork for Draco to sign - who regarded each page with suspicion as he read them twice before adding his initials. Mason shot her one last look before walking off, muttering a hesitant welcome to Draco who appeared not to hear him. </p><p>Hermione hurried back to her office and picked up her briefcase. She was placing Malfoy’s parchment into a pocket when she noticed he’d followed her inside and was observing her. His hair was carefully styled while his grey robes looked impeccably pressed. He’d clearly been trying to make an impression to wherever he thought he was going to interview. The thought made her feel a little sad for him for some inexplicable reason. </p><p>Shoving her hair impatiently behind her ears, she spoke first as he seemed keen to just stare. “Well, I’ll see you here tomorrow. Eight am. Mason doesn’t like latecomers so you cannot be late.”</p><p>“I think I know what a latecomer is, thanks,” he sneered, his jaw ticking. </p><p>She abandoned her briefcase and crossed her arms. Just what was his problem? He had been behaving so differently last night. In fact, she couldn’t recall a single time when they had parted on such good terms. Sure, alcohol may have helped but he just seemed colder now. Did he really find the idea of working with her so abhorrent? Was it really due to her blood, after all? “Is something wrong, Malfoy?” </p><p>She watched as he grew angrier by the second, his eyes flashing darkly. “No, nothing is. Everything is great,” he spat. “Thanks to you, I finally have something to do that doesn’t involve rebuilding properties or cleaning up dung after magical beings.”</p><p>“If you want to go back to doing that, I can rescind my offer,” she offered, bewildered. She had known there were some odd jobs he had to do due to his sentence but why did he sound so bitter about working with her now? </p><p>“Don’t bother,” he sneered, abruptly turning at his heel and leaving her to look around her room in wonder. What had just happened?</p><p>The only difference between him yesterday and him today was the absence of alcohol. Was that it? Or did he secretly still think she was beneath him? Scowling, she shrugged on her coat and prepared to leave. If he was still thinking of her as nothing but a mudblood then it was her own naiveness, she thought. She’d tried to defend him to Mason and got him to agree on his hiring while he still thought of her as second-class. Was Malfoy also there to increase her sufferings so that the world can watch as she wavers between the decision of Malfoy and Mason on who to murder first? Suddenly, Hermione was not too fond of her belief in roles and purposes and the grand scheme of things.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hi so, I've already written as far as half the fic. I think it won't be more than 22 chapters, give or take. I plan to update as frequently as I can.<br/>The title of the fic has been inspired by a lyric from "Dark Paradise" by Lana Del Rey. </p><p>Thank you so much for reading and I'd really appreciate any feedback. Also, on that note, this fic will primarily be from Hermione's perspective but may contain some scenes/chapters from Draco's POV.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Painted Black</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>"Department of Magical Law Enforcement," announced a cool female voice, startling Draco who was scowling as he thought of the prospect of working with Granger. It may not have been so bad until he’d overheard the conversation between her and his boss and now he knew why he was working with Granger. He strode outside the lift along with the various wizards and witches besides him. </p><p>He recognised a few of them from his time at Hogwarts; some from his classes, some from the time they ran away from him screaming during the Battle, some from his various character assassinations during his trial <em> (“Malfoy </em>bewitched my boxers to sing "Need Sugar" whenever a girl happened to touch them on the occasions I actually could have gotten some <em>sugar” </em> ), and some from the time they reinitiated certain Malfoy Stinks badges ( <em> his </em>own invention against him really, the nerve) while he worked with them on rebuilding the castle, courtesy of the aforementioned trial. </p><p>Of course, none of them would bring that up now. He got a few nods, grimaces and plain ignorance from plenty of them. Well, sod them. He was <em>reformed </em>now: he paid his war reparations in full on the regular, he spent <em>four </em>years working for the betterment of the Wizarding world post-war in various unsavoury ways and happened to be a frequent face spotted at the bi-annual ministry-mandated support group for reformed Death Eaters or as he fondly called it, "the Chosen Ones Who Made All the Wrong Choices" when he had a few too many (which was almost too often). He even had a job now - a proper one with a desk and everything. With a war heroine, no less. </p><p>A war heroine who had every intention of using his reputation to further her own agenda. He couldn’t have asked for a better combination. Had his work even been brilliant or had she sold out herself so deeply in her faux love for the downtrodden like him that she had overlooked a measly attempt at her test?</p><p>Following the line of witches and wizards along the corridor, he discreetly shuffled into the door marked 4B which swung shut behind him. The summoning letter he received the day prior had given him nothing much to go on: he was supposed to meet the Auror assigned to his case. A middle-aged man named Lawrence who was surprisingly not in his office. </p><p>The office was a mess of a room with various floating memos, remembralls that almost sparked red, framed photos of assorted beaming wizards and witches, a laden box with a hasty scrawl “<em> DO NOT TOUCH - YES, YOU DRACO” </em>was bursting at the desk. Despite the mess, it still appeared bigger than the cramped boom cupboard he would receive. </p><p>Draco settled himself on a chair as he prepared to wait, conspicuously tucking his flask into his robes. He wondered if he should take a swig, liquid congratulations for his new opportunity with Hermione <em>fucking </em>Granger of all people. A perfect case of pity directed at him. Gained not from his name or measly fortune but his poor choices. Realising that this was a dire need for a drink, he undid the flask and let the liquid burn down his throat. He barely took his second sip when a seemingly innocuous device tucked in the box on the desk started buzzing faintly. </p><p>Hastily tucking his flask back into his robes, he remembered the few times Lawrence had raised certain suspicions about Draco’s coping mechanisms and well, he wouldn’t entirely put it past the man to install a contraption that could detect the use of alcohol in his office seeing as Draco spent many evenings in here. </p><p>Probably the wazzock thought he would be helping him in some strange way. Well, Draco had enough help to last him several lifetimes by now. Besides, he was doing fine. There was no need for interference from his Auror of all people. </p><p>Lawrence was a man with a very strange sense of humour: in the beginning, he was purposely late to watch one member of the once-revered now-ostracised Malfoy family be dependent on the whims of a man like him. Draco expected him to have been a Hufflepuff but he had been taken by surprise when the man was revealed to be Slytherin just like him. Surely this was another antic devised by the Ministry to exemplify its new motto of blood Houses not defining a person as it was their actions that mattered. </p><p>Theo greatly liked to demonstrate the new motto for innocent newcomers at their support group where he mimed an unmentionable action never seen outside of a bedroom. “Action that matters,” he would say as he wriggled his fingers at the conservative and traditional wizarding crowd. </p><p>Draco fidgeted in his seat, confident that the Auror hadn’t returned to his old ways of making him wait. He had been perfectly reasonable the past few months - not counting the various unwelcome incidents where he insulted Lawrence’s poor taste in shoes. Although, that was purely out of the goodness of his heart: the man was an Auror who needed an orientation into dragonhide footwear as he still favoured the cheap material that gradually turned irreparable within a few months. A man like Lawrence who favoured sustainability over frivolity should surely see reason in that. </p><p>If Draco had to describe Lawrence then he would call him "stable" which was surprising given the neurotic energy of the man. However, Lawrence had unflinchingly watched over the many many worst moments of Draco's post-Dark Lord's existence. His trial - his <em>family's </em>trial, he reminded himself bitterly, held one of the most packed audiences the Wizengamot had ever seen in the history of trials. Everyone eagerly awaited the torrid fate that would befall the Malfoys and drag their name to the mud. </p><p>While his father got sentenced to Azkaban to no one's surprise and his mother received house detention, it was his actions for which none of them could agree upon a decision. His trial had been extended and ended up lasting several months. In fact, he watched as he became the only Death Eater awaiting his sentence while they tried to determine the best course of action for an absolute failure (according to both sides of the war) like him. </p><p>Lawrence was there to witness his dark memories of the Dark Lord's time in his house being played for the entire courtroom, Lawrence was there to watch teachers, friends and other students alike describe him at Hogwarts with unflattering or flattering detail depending on their relationship with him, Lawrence was there to grab his arm and briskly escort him towards or away from the Ministry's doors as reporters clambered after them hurtling questions and demanding answers, Lawrence was there to calmly Apparate them away as soon as a crowd caught sight of his face and heckled him, Lawrence was there as the only familiar presence in the courtroom where he was ruthlessly interrogated by Aurors, Healers, Unspeakables (only Merlin knows why) and Warlocks. </p><p>Lawrence was also there to vanish the copies of the <em> Daily Prophet </em>and <em> Witch Weekly </em>which were lobbed at his head as he left the courtroom, declaring various headlines depending on the progress of his case: <em> MALFOY - THE YOUNGEST DEATH EATER IN EXISTENCE, MALFOY: THE FACE OF BIGOTRY AND PREJUDICE THAT LIVES TO THIS DAY, MALFOY - A CHILD SOLDIER? MALFOY - A VICTIM JUST LIKE US, MALFOY - THE BOY WITH NO CHOICES. </em>All these were also accompanied by the worst photo that had ever been captured of Draco: a dramatic black and white unflattering still of Draco staring listlessly at the ground in the middle of his own trial. His nose looked particularly horrendous; Lawrence had sent him a framed copy. </p><p>Lawrence was present whenever a lucky (or unlucky, depending on how you looked at it) soul snuck down to the trial cellar he was destined to stay at until his trial ended which seemed it never would. The wizard or witch would either rage against him as they lost a mother, father, sister, brother, husband, wife, in the war or they would (most disturbingly) profess their love for him. "It is <em>unfair,"  </em> they would declare with a glint of madness in their eyes. " <em> It's not your fault, you were so young - it's all so tragic what they're doing to you."  </em>Draco never heard the rest of their speeches as Lawrence would silently stun them and see them out with the firm message that he was not being kept in a cellar for show and tell to anyone who would question the act. </p><p>Lawrence also fielded his owl post. Since the end of the war, Draco had become a much-beloved recipient of Howlers and letters. Most admonished him, berated him, cussed him while some of the letters eloquently described salacious things that they would like to do to him. On one particular occasion, a letter had gotten through which seemed normal enough until he got to the point where the sender described they had rubbed their genitals thoroughly onto it so Draco could “recognise his scent when he was released.” Draco had been almost ready to beg for a sentence to Azkaban just like his father for this madness to stop when Saint Potter and his friends agreed to testify for him. </p><p>Draco remembered as he sat in shackles while Potter, looking at him straight in the eye, had declared: "I was there at the Astronomy Tower when he failed to kill Dumbledore." At this, the crowds had begun to whisper so loud that even the <em> Silencio </em>cast by the Warlock presiding over his case could not seem to hold it and Potter had to shout for his next words to be heard. "I watched as he lowered his wand and seemed to be ready to accept asylum. Draco also did not recognise me at Malfoy Manor. An action which had he not done would have led to our defeat." </p><p>After Granger and Weasley's testimony...well, it was over. He scowled as he thought of Granger’s - and probably their entire trio’s intentions for that now. Extend Malfoy some pity and help and gain favour for it from society. How completely amusing. Watch him get what he deserves and pay for his crimes. </p><p>"You are sentenced to five years of assistance in rehabilitation efforts," the Warlock had read with his glasses, his hooked nose flaring ever so slightly as the crowd around him either seemed to be crying with happiness, anger, and distraught that the most entertaining event which led their newspapers and magazines sales to soar was over. "You will complete your education while assisting in rebuilding Hogwarts Castle and other properties destroyed during the war, you will work with the blue-collar staff on various clean-ups, you will volunteer for muggle support services. During this time, you will do any tasks that will be assigned to you. You are decreed to attend a support group that will be shortly launched for" and Draco watched as his mouth twisted disapprovingly before he sneeringly continued: <em> "</em>reformed Death Eaters. As for your inheritance and any funds you are entitled to, they have been seized and will not be released until you have completed your sentence, you will, of course, be eligible for a certain allowance subject to the reparations deductions. An Auror, Mr Lawrence, has been assigned to your case and will regularly report your progress and behaviour to us while checking on your..." Draco had tuned him out as the Warlock continued to list the various actions he was allowed or not allowed to do. He heard the words "mandatory undertaking of classes such as <em> Muggle Studies'' </em>and could not even bring himself to shudder. His Apparition licence was cancelled for three years, the trace would be applied to him for the first two. These did not even sink into him. He felt strange, his breathing shallow. </p><p>He was not going to Azkaban. It really was over. </p><p>"Do you understand, Mr Malfoy?" The warlock had thundered and Draco snapped his attention back to him. </p><p>"Wh-"</p><p>"Any report of any misdoing, any report of any unfavourable behaviour," the warlock's lip curled as he enunciated each word carefully, "any report of you going back to your malicious ways or even a hint of something...untoward and it is straight to Azkaban."</p><p>Draco stared, the words ringing around the room. He was not going back to Azkaban. But it was not over? </p><p>"Do you understand the <em>extreme </em>favour that is being bestowed upon you by letting you off as an esteemed citizen of this society, Mr Malfoy?" the warlock had asked with a glare, his lips pursed. It was clearly not over. Draco just knew the man was wondering whether it was too late to rescind his sentence. </p><p>"Yes, yes, I do understand completely, Warlock Jones,” he had drawled which one <em> Daily Prophet </em>article had described as insolent and surly.</p><p>"Then you will do well to repay it," had been the remark before he was ushered out by Lawrence. It had been the start of a grim journey as his life completely turned around. </p><p>Draco became so lost in thought that when a clock-like contraption started ringing, he started and immediately drew his wand at it, his heart pounding. As he slowly became aware of his surroundings, he realised that Lawrence was more than half an hour late. Something had to be wrong. Lawrence was never late once he got over the novelty of watching the Malfoy heir wait for him. The man had shown up on time even the day his daughter was born. </p><p>Well, he would owl sooner or later. Besides, this was not really a time-bound meeting or one of their regular check-in ones. He was just told to see the man as soon as possible. Draco wondered whether they already knew of his job. Of all the things, that had been an extra condition added onto his sentence: becoming a functional member of society. It was also the most difficult as even Knockturn Alley would not hire him - not that he’d even step foot in there for Aurors would descend on him the moment he would. </p><p>It was months of interviewing at various places. Sometimes, he would not even get to the interviews as the potential employer would see him, turn beet red and announce that the position had filled up. He supposed he should be grateful to Granger that he finally had one but something still twisted in his heart about it. What had she said? </p><p>
  <em> “It would work into the tolerant society ideal that the Ministry wants us to participate in. Everyone would consider our firm extremely unprejudiced. Everyone would talk about how we give second-chances, especially to those who may not deserve it.”   </em>
</p><p>He considered himself a fool. Did he really think niceties over drinks absolved him of his sins in her eyes? Apparently not. She probably regarded him as a charity case, if anything. Just like her bloody house-elves and her insistence on justice for all unfavoured beings in societies. No, he was worse off in her eyes, he thought with a shudder. He was a token for her - to show the ministry just how tolerant and unprejudiced she is. </p><p>Hermione <em>fucking </em>Granger. He always suspected she had a hidden dark side for her extreme care of others and now he knew. It was all an act to gain favour. </p><p>The door flew open revealing Lawrence who looked slightly dishevelled as he usually did. Upon seeing Draco, he only raised an eyebrow and announced, "Oh good, you are here" before bustling in, his robes and briefcase bumping into the various file cabinets that were neatly stacked in his office and leaving an orchestra of sounds several devices turned on magically. </p><p>Draco had often wondered whether he was Longbottom's long-lost relative. </p><p>"I hope you have a bloody good reason for being late because I was subjected to half an hour in this waste of space you call an office.” Draco kept his gaze on the man who seemed to be studiously ignoring him.  “Was my suffering through solitary confinement in the prison cells not enough to satisfy you?” </p><p>Draco used his wand to summon the tea tray set in the corner and frowned at the man who seemed lost in thought. With another flick, a steaming cup was in his hand while another cup was hovering near Lawrence who absent-mindedly swatted his hand, nearly sending the tea down his robes. He caught it just in the nick of time before taking a very loud sip. </p><p>Draco kindly refrained from repeating his mother who used to sing, "<em> boys who slurp their tea are taken over the knee,” </em>during their daily afternoon tea.</p><p><em> " </em>Right..." Lawrence took a seat behind his desk before gesturing Draco to the seat in front. </p><p>Draco sat, his back ramrod straight. He did not have a good feeling about this just like the time Theo had convinced him and Blaise to indulge in an intoxicant potion which had led to a wild night that was so deeply imprinted in his mind that to this day, Draco could not smell whiskey without gagging. </p><p>"You were saying?" Draco prompted. At his voice, Lawrence shook his head slightly before pulling a thick file that Draco knew to be his. The sight of it made him really want to unscrew his flask, it could not be good news. </p><p>"So we are nearly at the end of your sentence of five years," he began, flashing him a fond look which made Draco quite uncomfortable and he bristled, prepared with a rude retort that died in his throat as Lawrence went on. "You have been, well, quite good at meeting every expectation and requirement. Your commitment has impressed many. The Ministry is pleased." </p><p>"So am I being released early?" Merlin, he hoped Lawrence had not heard the earnest hope in his voice. He may as well have sprouted antlers and declared his undying love for the Ministry. To make up for it, he quickly added: “Only because I have grown tired of having to endure your presence on a daily basis. It is practically another sentence on its own.”</p><p>"Well...no, not being released early because you still have to hold a job," Lawrence muttered, glancing down at his watch before his eyes bugged out. </p><p>"What?" Draco demanded but Lawrence did not seem to be paying attention. All of a sudden, there was a flurry of activity around the room, Lawrence waving his wand around as the mess on his desk as it fixed itself and a file cabinet flew open. Draco jumped out of the way as a particularly thick file caught him in the eye before lodging itself in Lawrence’s briefcase. </p><p>Rubbing his eye, Draco repeated himself but the other man was rummaging through his belongings. </p><p>“I’ve got a job,” he said casually, noting that Lawrence’s hands stilled and he looked at him with pride. </p><p>“Excellent news! What is it? Is it the Flourish and Blotts one? I knew they’d come around.” </p><p>“No, actually,” Draco stuck out his chin. “It’s with a research and development firm. Hermione Granger’s department,” he practically spat her name, knowing instantly what would happen. </p><p>Predictably, Lawrence’s eyes bugged out widely. “<em> Hermione Granger?”  </em></p><p>Draco nodded curtly. </p><p>“Oh, this is so excellent for the paperwork! It will look really good for your case and hopefully, they’ll decide to let you off probation soon.” </p><p>“You speak of probation but when am I getting rid of you?”</p><p>Lawrence ducked his head down into his cabinet. “Well, sooner than expected.” He hesitated slightly. For an unexplainable reason, Draco's heart began to pound in a strange new rhythm. He was getting a very strange feeling about all of this. “I have been transferred.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Oh, don’t worry. You will be alright. They’ll assign you someone else and it will all be over soon anyway.”</p><p>“But this -why  - you can’t. I don’t want anyone else,” Draco spluttered, his cheeks flushed with anger. What was going on? </p><p>“Have you grown fond of me?”</p><p>“Fond?” Draco laughed bitterly. “No, I just don’t want to be stuck with a new git who will come up with ways to torture me and let me know exactly how I don’t deserve any of it.”</p><p>“Draco,” he said softly. Nobody understands, he thought. Not Lawrence, not this new Ministry. Not even that swot Granger. Everyone saw use in him and took it. Whether it was to move on in the job, have him pay galleons upon galleons for rebuilding society or promoting a certain image. All acts and personas. “I hope you kno-”</p><p>“Well, we had a good run. I suppose after four years, you must be glad to be rid of me and move on,” he sneered. Lawrence flinched but he went on. “I mean, I know I am with your tiring personality. I should get going. Now that I am no longer your case, I suppose I need to make an appointment and pay you by the hour for even having to talk to me.” He paused. “Is it a promotion?”</p><p>He did not need an answer as he watched Lawrence slump his shoulders.</p><p>"Of course, what was I thinking?" Nodding, he turned on his heel and stormed out, ignoring Lawrence calling after him. He felt a strange sensation of urgency overtake him. What was even going on? This was not how his life was supposed to look like. Never in his wildest dreams had the young eleven-year-old Slytherin boy had imagined that this was what it would be like. All because of the choices he made.  </p><p>He barely noticed as he Apparated home into a dingy flat in a muggle neighbourhood he shared with three other disgraced people just like him. Ignoring the concerned look on Blaise’s face while Theo and Pansy watched from the kitchen, he announced: “Lawrence has been promoted from my case and I just got a job with Hermione <em> fucking </em>Granger.”</p><p>There was silence. “I fixed the leaking pipe,” piqued Theo before glancing around. “What? I thought we were going around announcing our accomplishments for the day.” </p><p>Draco groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes. “Bonkers. This whole world is going bonkers.”</p><p>Theo plopped down on the sofa next to him, nearly toppling him over. “It is madness,” he agreed sagely. </p><p>“It could be a good thing,” offered Pansy. “I mean, it is not ideal but you have to know your options are limited.” </p><p>Glaring, he straightened up. “My utmost gratitude to you for informing me, Pansy. Otherwise, I would have lived in the delusion that my life is free with complete power to choose.” </p><p>Pansy’s hands wound into fists. “Yes, go ahead and lash out at the only people on your side. What a terrific idea.”</p><p>“You don’t need to remind me,” he said stiffly, drawing out the flask from his robes and draining it quickly. Oh fuck, he would have to see Granger tomorrow. With that, he summoned another bottle. </p><p>Blaise quietly observed the tension between Pansy and Draco, the latter still glowering. “Are there not enough people against us that we need to be at each other’s throats now?” </p><p>Draco ignored him while Pansy flounced away into her bedroom, the door slamming shut behind her. Sighing, Blaise followed her pausing to stare at Draco who pointedly did not look his way. </p><p>What did they know? None of them had trials that lasted as long as his. While they were also frowned upon in society, none of them had to deal with the cards he had been handed. He knew he should not grudge them for it. His body slumped as he recalled how it was due to Pansy he even had a job. Even if the employers had ulterior motives, she hadn’t. And regardless of the employers' motives, he could not deny how it would appear on his case file. It was all because of Pansy and the kindness she had decided to grant him - which he did not deserve. </p><p>A low voice interrupted his thoughts. “He is right, you know.”</p><p>“I know.” A beat. “I am a prick.”</p><p>“That we all know.” <br/><br/></p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So, surprise! We got to hear from Draco for this. It will be back to Hermione from the next updates. I just felt like we needed to hear how the past four years for Draco had been to provide a little context for how he is as a person now. </p><p>Not sure if you noticed but I tend to name my chapters after phrases, sentences or lyrics I've heard in songs. I</p><p>If you are interested, here is my tumblr: https://rosesformygrave.tumblr.com/</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Pay No Mind</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hermione had been up quite late the night before. While she was displeased that she had stuck up for Draco to Mason (of all people) and he’d reacted by behaving the way he always did, she felt conflicted as she envisioned herself in his place. </p><p>“It must be a change, right Crooks?” she looked over to her reproachful cat who was busy licking his paws as she tried to read through a textbook but kept getting distracted by the thought of her new colleague.  “I mean, to suddenly realise that all the opinions and thoughts that had been indoctrinated in him since childhood was wrong. I suppose it also doesn’t go well that out of all the muggle-borns, it is me - the one he shares a bad history with,” she added. “I am not exactly a fresh start.” She gazed at the book, not perceiving the words that were written. “Should I give it another chance?”</p><p>At that, Crookshanks had responded by proceeding to lick himself between his legs. “Is that a sign?” With a sigh, she scooped up the cat, pressing her nose against his fur. She was going mad if she thought Crookshanks could respond to her but she still took his action as a gesture from her familiar to give the git another chance. </p><p>Hermione was now hurrying into her office - she was not exactly late but as she flushed under Mason’s raised eyebrow when she bumped into him in the corridor, she knew she might as well have been. Entering her room, she nearly startled - not used to anyone else in the room - at the sight of Draco on the usually unoccupied desk, his face impassive as he read the morning’s <em> Prophet </em>and drank his tea.</p><p>“Good morning,” said Hermione with a smile that she hoped looked civil and polite. She was serious about another chance for Malfoy. She didn’t know why but she felt that working with him on her parents’ memories (not that he would know) was quite possibly something that could connect them. For better or for worse. She shrugged out of her coat, her loose hair catching on the buttons and she sighed as she made to untangle them. She’d hoped that growing her hair out would increase its weight and make it settle it down but it still continued to defy gravity. While Hermione knew she could manage with potions and even some muggle conditioners, she also resisted due to one specific reason: the hair added a few inches to her small frame. </p><p>Draco did not respond to her greeting but she saw his knuckles tighten against the newspaper as he regarded her. He did a quick sweep of her from head to toe then turned back to his chosen reading material, not even bothering with a response. </p><p>Hermione’s hands fisted at her side as she tried not to let him affect her. How sad that <em> she’d </em>testified for him at his trial and he still did not consider her a worthy citizen. Well, she tossed her hair, at least she tried. No one could say she did not try. </p><p>Seating herself, she began to sort through the mail that had piled up on her in-tray. It didn’t matter, she reminded herself. She was simply going to work with him in a professional capacity, use him in whatever way he could be used and get a cure for her parents. She was doing it for her parents, not to make friends. Especially with someone who was still harbouring prejudice. She paused as she spotted a letter by Harry, running a hand over the neat print of her name on the envelope. </p><p>After the second anniversary of the war, Harry had moved out of their shared apartment to be with Ginny while she played for the Holyhead Harpies. While Hermione knew that the distance had been difficult for both of them and this was a step that reflected their seriousness with each other, she also frequently felt alone once he’d gone. She learned to live with it but recently, they had indicated they were thinking of moving back which made her panic even more. She quickly undid the envelope, reading through the words.</p><p>
  <em> Dear Hermione,  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> How are you? Ginny and I are doing alright. I spent the week working on some boring desk cases while she was at practice - they have the last game of the season soon. The weather here is terrible, I think I have forgotten what sunshine feels like. I cannot wait to move back home.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> How is work going? Have you changed the world yet? Is Mason still annoying you? Ginny told me to pass on her suggestion of a Bat-Bogey Hex to calm that man down. If not, I can always pay a visit to you...One of these days, you should really come for a visit. You’ll like the local library here - although there are reports that it is haunted. We should plan something. I miss you.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Harry.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> P.S. Not sure if you heard but Ron was here last week. He seems to be doing alright. Asked me to pass on his wishes and regards to you.  </em>
</p><p>She wanted to write back immediately but she faltered as she picked up her quill. The warming charm she had placed on herself was fading, she noted, shivering slightly. Draco must have messed with the temperature regulatory charms she placed on the room.</p><p>Gathering her hair at the nape of her neck before shoving them through a rubber band, she thought of Harry. She was tired of Harry walking on eggshells around her. She was tired of Ron “passing on wishes.” Honestly. They behaved around her as if she was still crying over her failure with her parents! She rarely did so. In public, anyway. </p><p>She couldn’t blame them, though. After all, with years of friendship and history, Hermione had been the one who fulfilled the role of stability and calmness in their lives. She was there to act as the voice of reason and intellect and they had come to rely on her as exactly that. The fact that she was...well not quite calm or stable herself since her parents, had left them both at odds with what to do with her. Which is why they resorted to this: Harry sending her carefully worded letters to gauge her mood and behaviour with pleas to come see him while Ron passed on his remarks. </p><p>Since the war had ended, Harry no longer needed her to survive and did not require her knowledge for dangerous missions. And Ron, well. Their stint at romance had only made Hermione see how wrong they were for each other. If humans were puzzle pieces, she and Ron would never ever show a complete picture that made sense because their edges and ends did not align. </p><p>It was only natural, she had told herself. The war had left scars on all of them but as the weeks had turned into months with months turning into years, everyone had moved on. Who would want her around for haunting reminders? It was her who still struggled to hide her wounds and injuries so they did not seep into her pitiful resemblance of life and ruined that too. </p><p>With that, Hermione’s role and purpose had changed overnight. The reversal of the memory charm she had placed upon her parents was crucial. That was all she wanted to do. Besides, what else was there to do? She initially struggled to find a career at the Ministry like her friends; but as they settled in, Hermione abruptly quit her trivial role in the legal department to escape. She struggled socializing, her two friends had lives of their own now while her other friends were located across the globe as they worked for the betterment of the Wizarding world. </p><p>She still lived in London, in the same flat she had shared with Ron and Harry while Ginny had left to settle in Ireland. At the thought of a proper career in magical law or any of the other departments in the Ministry, she’d scrunched up her nose. She was fine being taken on as a consultant as she was these days. These were avenues she could pursue alongside her parents’ case which she treated with the utmost priority.</p><p>Hermione was determined that if anyone were to succeed with her parents, it would be her. She never failed (which was her failure itself) but the fact remained that she was also no closer than when she had been when she first started but as she stared at Draco across from her, she felt a deep conviction: they would figure it out. </p><p>Sighing, she went over the rest of her mail. Responding, reading and reviewing her piles of letters, contracts, files and textbooks. She finally waved her wand and her desk tidied itself, the letter from Harry sitting in plain sight as it mocked her - unable to go into any of the trays: in, trash, response, review, pending, and out. </p><p>Setting aside Harry’s parchment, Hermione picked up the thick volume of text and found the marker where she last made a note. There was no time to waste, the fate of her parents depended on this. On her. </p><p><em> Or maybe you depend on this </em>, said a small voice at the back of her head. Ignoring it, Hermione started about making her notes, cross-referencing with another textbook she had propped against her knees. </p><p>Hermione glanced at the clock time on her wand and startled - it was already 11 am. She hadn’t even told her new colleague what he was supposed to be doing. “I suppose I should orient you.” It was the first words that had been uttered since the morning, the only indication that Draco had heard her was a slight inclination of his head as he coolly regarded her. </p><p>“Yeah, I was wondering when you get around to that.” His tone was patronising and bored, the only two moods he seemed to have. </p><p>Flushing slightly, she waved her wand to copy the thick file regarding her parents’ case and sent it across to him. He could have just asked her; she tended to get distracted as soon as she saw the paperwork and documents on her desk and could not do anything unless those were out of the way. Besides, she’d been working alone for two years here. She was not used to having someone in the room with her - let alone someone she was supposed to orient and train. </p><p>“Alright. We - this firm - works on testing and innovating various fields of magic to create new charms, spells and ideas for the betterment of wizarding societies. Everything we do here has to be reviewed and approved by the Ministry first,” she paused when an amused expression came on his face. “A question?” </p><p>“Did the Ministry approve my hiring?” His question surprised her, why would that matter to him?</p><p>“I meant their involvement is mostly limited to ethical approvals, patents, and intellectual property,” she clarified. </p><p>“Who handles that here?” </p><p>“I do.” She chewed her lip for a second. “The other departments have more broad terms of reference so I - well, I guess now it is <em> we </em>- get additional tasks, mostly coordination with the Ministry. I already consult with them on several things so it is just easier if it is me. You can help me out with them.” </p><p>“Do these additional tasks include public appearances at various Ministry functions?” There was a glint in his eye, his eyebrows raised. </p><p>She wrinkled her nose, almost shuddering at the thought. The reports and speculation in gossip magazines about her were more than enough to deal with when she wasn’t spotted anywhere. Imagine the scrutiny if she was actually showing up to events to provide them with actual material and evidence. “No, we don’t have to do that.” </p><p>He leaned back, his jaw slack. “Why?” </p><p>“I am sure if you want to, I can arrange for you to attend the Ministry functions,” she said drily. He must be eager to renew his reputation, she thought. </p><p>“Not you and I together?”</p><p>“No,” she said firmly. “You’ll have to go to those yourself because I don’t.” She glanced at her wand for the time, she was supposed to finish up today and then rush to the Ministry to have an advisory meeting on the welfare bill. </p><p>“I don’t want to either.”</p><p>She looked at him with narrowed eyes. “Why did you ask then?” </p><p>He looked just as confused as she felt when he shrugged, his jaw clenched. Perhaps, he wanted to do them with her because of her war heroine-esque reputation, she noted. He was sadly mistaken though, her fame only dragged whoever it was to scraps and she’d never subject anyone to it. Experiencing it herself was bad enough. </p><p>“Anyways, the purpose of our department is to find a cure for a memory charm-”</p><p>Draco’s eyes were roving over the first page of the file she sent him. “Have you used the memory reversal charm?” </p><p>“No, that thought simply never occurred to me,” she said pointedly and two spots of pink appeared on his cheeks. Rolling her eyes, she continued: “A cure for a memory charm that has been in place for exactly four years and three months now. It cannot be the standard memory reversal charm because the subjects are muggles.”</p><p>She paused for his questions or exclamations of disdains but as he only continued reading, she went on describing the various ways the antidote could not simply be the same spell for everyone. She highlighted the research she conducted which analysed the spell and the components of the brain, the various trials and testing of the counteract charms and then its subsequent failure the other day. Even now, she felt the anger gather at her neck as she resisted the urge to rip out her hair. </p><p>Draco was quiet, a slight frown on his face as he lifted the brain scans. “Why did it fail?” </p><p>“Clearly, I missed a latent variable. Perhaps, I didn’t account for the passage of time that had passed or the fact that when I -” she broke off, coughing slightly. “When the spell was <em> cast, </em>it was done so with the deliberate intention to resist any magical efforts to undo the charm.” He did not appear to have noticed her pause, his finger tracing along as he read while his other hand supported his chin. </p><p>His silvery blond hair was falling into his eyes as he ducked his head, his eyes still locked on her notes. Her heart was pounding in her chest, the beat so audible, she wondered whether he could hear it as well. Too much was weighing on Malfoy’s contribution to her work, she thought anxiously. While Hermione was offended at his clear resolve to stay steadfast in his traditional pro-pureblood ways, she was also fearful that once she’d revealed her connection to the case, he would refuse to help her. After all, he still thought of her as second-class, what would he say about her parents? </p><p>“I do not have an in-depth knowledge of the mind,” he began, eyes stormy as he considered her notes. “But you missed something integral. There are some gaps and that’s why you failed.” </p><p>Hermione nodded, flinching a little at the mention of her failure but she should be glad he was taking an interest and asking critical questions. “Yes, the passage of time and the original intention like I said.” </p><p>“It is not just that, there is something else...” </p><p>Her throat was dry as she offered, “I guess there could be.”</p><p>He gazed at a spot on his desk, his brow furrowed and lips pressed in a thin line. “Why are these muggles important, anyway?” </p><p>She lifted a shoulder, a well-practised lie forming at her lips. “It is believed they may be harbouring some crucial information that the Ministry requires and the charm was placed by a powerful intention to never recover it.” </p><p>“Who cast the charm?” If she could reveal she cast the spell, he might quickly make the connection and never help her but if she didn’t tell him, it would be a lie of omission at her end and what if it was crucial?. “I only need to know that,” his voice interrupted her thoughts. “Because it would be different if it was cast with an intention to harm rather than protect. It would also help to know if the wand used ever turned to the Dark Arts.”</p><p>“I can get you that information.” She was surprised, she had figured she would need to persuade him to provide his inputs because he wouldn’t be interested in helping a pair of muggles but that didn’t seem the case. Maybe he didn’t mind muggles who stayed out of his way. It was just pesky witches like herself, she guessed. She also needed to consult with - well, herself - for a few hours to decide whether she wanted to tell him it was she who cast the spell. </p><p>Draco scratched his jaw, finally looking up at her. “I would need the rest of the day to familiarise myself with what you’ve already done.” Hermione nodded, opening her mouth but he continued: “So that I can tell you your mistakes and what you’ve overlooked before I can begin to suggest the way forward.” </p><p>Arse, she thought as he reverted back to his arsehole ways. Assuming she had made mistakes and overlooked things and he’d find them within a day? <em> It’s why you hired him, </em> a voice in her head reminded her as he watched with her with a knowing look, his lips curling. </p><p>“Of course,” she said plaintively. “Do share-”</p><p>“Oh, I plan to share your incompetencies, alright,” he drawled and she bristled, a rehearsed smile that she reserved for reporters and concerned crowds, placed on her face. </p><p>“That sounds terrific.” While her voice sounded perfectly normal to her ears, Malfoy’s knowing smirk only widened as he turned back to the notes, dismissing her. If it brought back her parents, she thought derisively, if it brought them back, she could put up with it. She could put up with anything for them. </p><hr/><p>A month had passed and Draco did not manage to find whatever he thought she had missed. Hermione knew because she made it a point to ask every day only to see his terse expression as he responded in the negative.It was dismaying, she wondered who came up with the phrase that no news was good news because the more she found nothing in her answers, the more her hopes were quashed. </p><p>Hermione shrugged out of her coat and pulled her cap off. She was shaking out her hair, feeling fat drops of water land on her desk. It may have been an unreasonable decision to brave the walk to her work with the rain. She was rather drenched. </p><p>She had barely begun to settle down for the day when Draco snickered alerting her to his presence. At seven in the morning, they were just one of the few people to have arrived at the office. </p><p>Rolling her eyes, she stuck out her chin as she took a sip of the steaming teacup placed upon her desk. She was mystified as to who went around ensuring she had her morning tea but she was not going to complain. “Something funny, Malfoy?” </p><p>Sniggering, Draco waved a hand towards her. Her general appearance, she presumed. He seemed to be struggling with stopping his laughter long enough to respond. Finally, he straightened up, playing with a quill but still chuckling slightly as he laid his eyes on her. “You don’t look unlike a drowned cat today.”</p><p>She shivered slightly as she cast a drying charm on herself. Summoning a jar from the lab, she quickly cast a flame in it for warmth before cocking her head to the side. “I hope you are not feeling sick again today.”</p><p>“I have been perfectly healthy, thank you very much.” He was frowning but there were still hear traces of laughter in his voice</p><p>Hermione pretended to look mystified before pulling a knowing expression. “Oh, I forgot that having an unfortunate pallor seems to be the only interesting thing a Malfoy inherits.”  </p><p>She could not describe the satisfaction that went through her when Draco narrowed his eyes at her but the satisfaction soon turned into anger as he drawled, “And what have you inherited from your parents, Granger? How to be a swot? Dressing like a homeless person?” </p><p>Hermione pursed her lips and ignored him. Let him bark like an annoying dog all day, she would not let him affect her because he did not affect her. His words definitely did not affect her.</p><p>“Touched a nerve, have I?” said Draco quietly as he watched her struggle to compose herself, her eyes flashing angrily. </p><p>She held up her wand. "Don't."</p><p>"I am positively quaking in fear." Draco pretended to shudder, clutching the place where his heart should have been. </p><p>With a flick of her wand, she gathered her scrolls and parchments, her nose in the air. A second later, her wand hand twitched and a flock of conjured birds were attacking Draco as he covered his head with his hands, batting them away. </p><p>"Granger - what the fuck?" His voice was thunderous as he vanished her charm within seconds. </p><p>"It's a standard seventh-year charms spell. Didn't you know that?" She pretended to consider for a moment. "Oh right, I forgot I always bested you. In everything."</p><p>“YOU-”</p><p>The door opened, revealing Daphne who was wearing an oversized pair of glasses, her hair in a messy bun that looked effortless yet chic. "What is going on here?" </p><p>"Nothing," barked Hermione and Draco together causing Daphne to raise her eyebrows. She kicked the door shut, standing in the middle of the room as she looked between the two of them. "Would either of you remind me what the HR manual states on page 47?”</p><p>The silence in the room grew so thick that a knife could have stabbed its way through it. Draco seemed to be goading Hermione silently, miming the way her hand would shoot up whenever a question was asked of her. It was precisely why she had to keep her mouth shut even if she wanted to blurt out the answer.</p><p>Daphne sounded irked. “Well?” </p><p>“It provides details for work environments that support changes and innovation and how if to achieve that, there needs to be a work culture that is based on cooperation, respect and tolerance,” mumbled Hermione quickly. Draco smirked at that, his arms crossed. </p><p> “I don’t see cooperation, respect or tolerance here.” Daphne looked between the two, both silent as they regarded the other. “I am going to write up an HR complaint, consider it the first warning.”</p><p>Not receiving a response or reaction, Daphne expertly magicked two scrolls, tapped them once with her wand then sent one of each to Hermione and Draco. </p><p>“Glad we all are on the same page now.” Her tone was pleasant, her hand pausing on the doorknob as she turned back to look at them. Her lips twitched for a second before she stepped out, the door swinging shut with a small click. </p><p>“I’ve never received a warning before. This is all your fault.” </p><p>Draco sounded bored, his hands on the nape of his neck. “May I remind you that you’re the one who resorted to personal attacks not to mention the flock of birds you set loose?” He paused, a glint in his eye. “It really sounds like you have some major anger issues. You should consider having an outlet to rid yourself of the tension.”</p><p>“Really, what did you have in mind?” Her tone was sarcastic, her attention already on her planner - sorting through the tasks she needed to get done in order of priority. </p><p>“Some would suggest that physical release of deep-seated emotions are the best form of catharsis,” he said, his tone dark and his meaning all too clear. </p><p>She jerked, her quill creating a large inkblot on the memo she had been writing. Vanishing the mess, she regarded him coldly. “I do not know what malignant pleasure you get out of this but one more word and there’s going to be more than the first warning for you.” </p><p>He rolled his eyes. “As if there is any pleasure to be had with you - even the malignant kind.”</p><p>“I could say the same about you.” They scoffed at each other, her lips pursed. Draco’s gaze seemed...accusing. Of what, she did not know and she was not too bothered to figure it out. He was probably accusing her of her lowly blood. She dropped her gaze, picking up her scrolls and heading out of the room to meet Mason. </p><hr/><p>“You’re angry, aren’t you?” Daphne guessed when they met up for drinks that night. Her glasses were gone, replaced by a chic scarf around her neck and her hair was loose as it flowed down her back. She’d probably left for home and changed while Hermione had stayed at work till the very last possible minute in hopes she might reach a breakthrough. </p><p>“Not at you, at Malfoy. It just seems like he brings out the worst in me,” she confessed, seating herself in their usual spot towards the back at Coco’s. A magicked tray appeared before them, their drink and food orders lay upon it. Coco’s was a trendy and hip bar that had opened up very recently. Known for its easy atmosphere, good food and excellent fusion of drinks, it was impossible to not run into someone she knew.  While Hermione would have preferred a private unknown nook, she couldn’t deny her friend their monthly get-together. </p><p>“You know, I’ve barely seen you since he started,” Daphne commented, popping a chip into her mouth before mouthing <em> oh my god yes </em> . “The combination of these chips with <em> this </em>dip,” she swirled another chip in the tiny bowl to emphasise her point, “has made me almost believe in a god again.”</p><p>“Imagine. All god needed to do was send down food to persuade people into belief.”</p><p>Daphne laughed loudly, attracting attention from a few nearby tables - they took one look at Daphne before gazing at Hermione, their voices hushed, their faces starstrucked. “So, I haven’t seen you. Is Draco keeping you busy?” Daphne switched the topic, shifting a little in her seat so she was hidden from the view of onlookers.</p><p>Hermione scowled, remembering his lewd comment from earlier that day. Where did he go off saying things like that to her? “Of course not. It’s just the work. I’ve been hoping to fasten my pace and get on with it but it just doesn’t click. It’s frustrating.”</p><p>“Is he slowing you down or has he been helping?” Her tone was too casual, her mouth innocently pulling at her straw. Hermione frowned, why was her friend interested? Sure, they’d been house-mates but she hadn’t realised they were friends. </p><p>She picked at her apple pie as she considered her question. Draco was being helpful - in his own way. He did believe she had overlooked something - whether that led to something actual substantial and fruitful remained to be seen considering he still didn’t find it. “I guess. He says he did find something I missed.” </p><p>Blonde hair falling forwards, she leaned in. “I am glad you gave him a chance. He’s been really struggling, I think. He needed this.”</p><p>A suspicious nagging alarm went off Hermione as she surveyed her friend who was not meeting her gaze, playing with a clasp on her bracelet. “Is there something you wish to tell me?” A sudden thought struck her. “You don’t <em> like </em>him, do you?”</p><p>“Like him?” </p><p>Hermione flicked her hair behind her ears, her face brightening. While she and Daphne talked and were friends, they had never spoken about potential suitors before.  “You know, do you fancy him?” she said, awkwardly. </p><p>Daphne’s expression twitched, her fingers grasping her glass. “No. I don’t but he was betrothed to my sister once.”</p><p>“Really?” Her sister had passed away shortly after the war due to an ancient blood curse in the family. “So he is heartbroken?” </p><p>“No,” Daphne hesitated, her smile fading. “Purebloods have strange customs and traditions as you know. Some are so antiquated that there is no sense or purpose to continue doing them but it’s still done. There’s rarely ever love in arranged engagements. It is mostly political or capital alignment.”</p><p>“That is not surprising.”</p><p>Daphne traced a finger over the rim of her glass as she considered Hermione. “The engagement was broken off shortly before Dumbledore died. It’s not as if the Malfoys were doing themselves any favours in social standings by ending up at Azkaban.”</p><p>“Why are you telling me this?” Hermione sighed, tugging at her hair. “Don’t pretend there is not some ulterior motive, you Slytherin,” she added when Daphne looked to deny it. “I know you, there is some underlying reason for this.” </p><p>Daphne shrugged. “Not specifically. Just…”</p><p>“Just what?” </p><p>Her expression was tormented as she said sadly, “I can’t exactly tell you exactly because I’ll have to reveal my source and I can’t yet but...Draco is only looking to get a rise out of you. If he feels threatened or attacked, he will strike back.” </p><p>“I’ve done nothing,” she protested, wondering who was Daphne’s source. “He is the one-”</p><p>Daphne pursed her lips, her expression nonchalant. “Maybe but there could be something that makes him angry.” </p><p>“I am a mudblood, does he need any more of a reason?” she said dully. </p><p>Daphne did not look amused. “I don’t think it’s that. He would be foolish to hold a grudge against you for that.”</p><p>“Short of you suggesting Malfoy’s behaviour is due to some juvenile attempt of him showing feelings for me for which I am going to scream and never talk to you again because I already went through that with Ron - I don’t think there’s anything.” </p><p>Daphne shuddered. “Oh no, I don’t think it’s that. Anyways, enough about work. How are Harry and Ron?”</p><p>As Hermione responded, she couldn’t help but wonder what Daphne knew that she was clearly hiding from her. What had she done to warrant Malfoy striking back?</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Grievances</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Two weeks later, it was a warm Friday evening and Hermione was at her desk as she eyed the time on her wand. Her imprisonment would not be over for another few hours and unfortunately, she was not in solitary confinement. </p><p>She had a delightfully chatty and kind (not) cell-mate who wore a watch that ticked loudly enough for her to imagine it marking the etchings of another tally mark onto a brick cell wall. Another day, successfully survived. She was immersed in her paperwork, reading a journal article as she cross-referenced her new literature for research. </p><p>
  <em> While no evidence exists to suggest that non-magical means may undo a magical charm placed upon the mind, there have been many non-magi and magical experiments carried out since the past few decades in the Wizarding world to determine causality between the two... </em>
</p><p>Hermione liked her work, she liked her job. A firm that worked on research and development to trial various fields of magic to create new charms, spells and ideas for the betterment of wizarding societies was exactly her cup of tea. Her specific case research with her parents was also incredibly fascinating and frustrating at the same time. It was challenging, gruesome and exhausted all her intellectual capabilities. So yes, she liked her work. </p><p>What she loathed was her fire-breathing boss who was possibly the most micromanaging, controlling, and stern figure she had ever met. When it was not Mason grating on her nerves, it was Malfoy. Save for the few verbal spars, debates and disagreements, they hardly interacted - having employed a no-talk policy without even talking about that. It was a wonder how long they could go without speaking to another for days, despite being in the same room. Hermione was also no closer to figuring out the reason Daphne had alluded to but as they were on civil terms, she appreciated that perhaps she did not even need to know. </p><p>Unfortunately, just Draco’s presence - the fact that he even existed in her mental acknowledgement of a room - drove her bonkers. Even the way he breathed sometimes annoyed her when all she wanted to do was focus on her work. She always needed perfectly controlled conditions to focus and anything that interfered with it caused her to become snappy or “mental” as Ron and Harry had liked to call it. </p><p>Even now as she read through her new direction which was like she’d told Mason, promising, she watched him from the corner of her eye as he leaned against his messy desk, his expression pinched. His hair had grown longer, curling around his ears. He was looking at the wall, his fingers tapping a beat against his desk in time with the tick of his watch. It was like a constant soundtrack to her day at work - mocking her while she struggled to make progress. </p><p>Draco had spent the last few weeks going over the puzzle. If Hermione did not know any better, she would say he was becoming slowly obsessed with the task. His hunch about things she’d missed was still in development - every day she’d arrive to find Draco hunched over piles of books as a quill scribbled notes he’d dictate onto the wall he’d taken over. </p><p>She was surprised to learn that Draco needed visualization to develop and track his thoughts and so, the wall opposite the office doorway was covered in a mind-map. Looking at it made Hermione feel impressed and curious both; here she was looking at the inner working of Malfoy’s mind. It detailed the brain scans, excerpts of theories, outtakes of case studies, a summary of her research, a brief outline of the failure of the countercharm she did develop and then various branches that depicted his research and his ideas. Malfoy raised his wand silently, another piece of parchment blooming at the wall. </p><p>“Granger.” His voice was abrupt, the first words spoken in the room since the morning. “I think I can show you something concrete now.” </p><p>Hermione looked up with interest, abandoning her files as she hurried over to his side. Not that it was needed, their office was so cramped, they were seated only a few feet apart opposite each other. </p><p>“What did you do?” She leaned over to make a sense of his notes but the writing was too cramped to decipher the individual words. </p><p>“It’s an amalgamation of the general memory charm and the one you developed.” His tone had a slight indication of impatience, his hand rubbing the nape of his neck, his brow furrowed as he gazed at the wall. “It applies the concepts of both but I tweaked it as you did with yours to cater to the specific memory at a specific point in time.”</p><p>“Will it work?” she said aloud. </p><p>“Isn’t that what we are testing right now?” he retorted, rolling his eyes. </p><p>“I’ll get the brain,” her voice was a little hopeful, she chided herself as she unwarded the sealed compartment in her desk, revealing another heavily warded container. Draco undid those with his wand, regarding the large jar that lay underneath with an injured expression. The brain inside was still alive - preserved in potions and magical stasis. The first time Draco had seen it, he’d turned a shade of grey that matched the precise colouring of his eyes and had run out of the room. Loud retching noises had been heard as Hermione awaited his return. The appendage belonged to a muggle who’d been killed magically, his memory of the kill carefully obliviated by Aurors. The brain had been kindly submitted by the magical cadaver and autopsy department back when Hermione had initiated her various trials and tests. </p><p>“Will you vomit?” Her tone was matter-of-fact, she really needed to know so she could prepare to withhold extracting the brain for a few more minutes while he got his stomach contents in order. </p><p>“If you continue speaking to me, I will,” he snapped but his eyes drifted to a small flask that was always present on his desk and he quickly drank it. Hermione had her suspicions regarding its contents but assuming it would lead to another row, she prevented herself from bringing it up. It’s not like it was interfering. </p><p>Draco’s wand trembled in his hand as Hermione carefully extracted the brain from its jar with hers, their noses wrinkling at the smell. Draco’s skin turned a grey that matched his eyes but he was not expelling his stomach contents yet. She placed it on a sterilized tray he conjured before standing next to him, her hands shaking so much, she knotted them behind her back. Murmuring the charm, Draco traced the wand movement as they watched in rapt attention. For a second, nothing happened but then the brain started jerking. Hermione quickly shot a diagnosis charm at it, noting the neuron activity.  </p><p>They pointed their wands at it, hesitating once the brain stopped moving. “Go on,” she whispered to Draco.</p><p>“<em> Legillimens.” </em>She waited with her breath held, Draco’s eyes unfocused for a few seconds and he was so still that it was apparent she was not the only one not breathing. His shoulders slumped, stepping away from her and Hermione pursed her lips, carefully returned the brain to its jar, levitating it back to its warded compartment. </p><p>She became conscious of ringing in her ears as she returned to her desk. While she’d known it was a high chance, she had assumed it would work because Draco had really made her believe it would. She blinked away the sudden emotion she felt in her eyes and cleared her throat, she would cry and despair later but now she needed to speed up their progress. </p><p>“It didn’t work.”</p><p>Draco glared at her, his arms placed on his desk while she did the same, her expression neutral. “Thank you for stating the obvious, Granger. As always, one would be completely lost without your astute observation skills.”</p><p>“Malfoy, it means we need to reconsider our approach. I think we are wasting time prolonging the inevitable failure if we keep pursuing this. I think it’s time we went ahead with other ideas.” </p><p>He ignored her, his skin colour was returning to his usual pallor and he was breathing deeply. He returned to marking the notes he’d made in the original file that Hermione had handed over. She did not need to ask him for updates as she charmed it so that any addition or deletion automatically showed in hers too. With another wand flick from him, a note detailing today’s progress was up on the mind-map wall. </p><p>She returned to her research, gazing at the letters upon letters before her until her eyes ached. Seeing a need for a break, she rubbed her eyes once. “I am going to step out for a bit.” </p><p>Receiving no response (as usual), she strode along the corridor, her hands behind her back. They just needed to find their approach, she told herself. Just the approach and they could take it from there - they’d been intently pursuing leads. It would eventually lead to something. </p><p><em> Failure </em> mocked the tiny voice in her head. Shaking it, she entered her office again finding Draco leaning against his desk as he tapped a rhythm against it with his fingers. She wondered if he did it purposely, aware that it annoyed her. Knowing him, he probably did. </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> Tap.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Tap.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Tap.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Hermione gritted her teeth as she reread her paragraph. She was falling behind on a few Ministry tasks so seeing she needed breaks from her research, had taken to working on it to prevent herself from going mad. Of course, Draco did not know that because his incessant tapping would drive her to her grave. She had a sudden image of him continuing his tapping even there. </p><p>“Stop that, please.” Her tone was angry as she highlighted a section of the welfare bill she was consulting on for the Ministry. While a very rudimentary one had been passed not too long after the war (Hermione had also lobbied for it along with several others), there were some serious expansions that needed to go into it for non-human magical beings.</p><p>If anything, the tapping increased - almost taunting her. He was seated at his desk, his head buried in books, parchments and sheaves of loose paper. He could almost look like the image of an absent-minded professor if he could just stop the damn tapping. </p><p>“Malfoy,” she snapped, pausing to glare at him. </p><p>The tapping stopped. She felt like crying - she’d forgotten how beautiful silence sounded. Barely a minute passed before it started again. “<em> Malfoy.”  </em></p><p>“I can’t help it. It happens unconsciously.”</p><p>“Make a <em> conscious </em>effort to not do it then,” she said sharply. Rereading the sentence for the fifth time, she did her best to ignore him. In a few minutes, the tapping picked up again. She reached for her wand - she nearly smiled when she heard the tapping stop, transfiguring her scarf into a pair of earmuffs. She cast a noise-cancelling spell and put them on, nearly sighing in relief. </p><p>Without his tapping, his annoying breathing and paper shuffling noises, she could almost pretend that he was not even there. Almost. She frowned slightly as she edited a word. </p><hr/><p>It was the end of the day and Hermione was just wrapping up her review of the bill when a sharp jerk caused her earmuffs to scatter to the ground. At once, the noise of existence assaulted her and she winced. “Why did you disturb me like that?” </p><p>Draco was leaning across her desk, his elbows perched on it, his expression amused. “Short of setting you on fire from my desk, you were completely ignorant and unresponsive.”</p><p>“What do you want?” Her tone was plaintive, she glanced at her wand and her heart nearly swooped as she realised it was the end of another week. </p><p>Draco hesitated, examining his hands. Two signet rings gleaned from his left hand - one was a very intense grey almost like it was carved from stone itself while the other was flashier, infinitesimal emeralds decorating the band. “I think the gap is that you have not consulted books from the <em> Dark Arts.” </em>She bristled, ready to retort but he went on, raising his voice. “I understand why you excluded them but I feel they might have something we are missing.” </p><p>“You must be joking.” She felt a growing sickness in her body, how could he even suggest something like this?</p><p>“I have read something about the mind in one of them, I just need to find it,” he said lightly.</p><p>“Anything mentioned in those won’t help.” Her voice was stiff, the scar on her forearm was stinging slightly. She’d erased their memories so they would be safe from the dark arts, not use it to bring them back. The dark arts had a price, and she was not sure if she could handle it if her parents had to pay for it in some way. </p><p>“Are you dismissing something before it even materialises? That is not so smart of you.” He nearly withered from her piercing gaze. “You could have been sitting on the answer but disregarded it because it did not come from a source you preferred.”</p><p>She gaped at him. “It’s not about my preference!”</p><p>“Knowledge is power, Granger. Regardless of where it comes from,” he clipped, not even having the courtesy to look at her. </p><p>She laughed once though there was nothing humorous about the situation. “Yes, I suppose I should consider the perspectives of authors who think my magic should be stripped and muggles enslaved.” She pursed her lips, her heart pounding as she went on. “You’d have to be ridiculous to think that biases and prejudice don’t shape their thoughts and perspectives even if they are purely academic.”</p><p>“I am not vouching for their background or saying that their work is sound.” His voice rose when she snorted. “Besides, the information I want it from a credible author who did not share traditional pureblood views. I am not going to use the spells from this, there is just something I need to check. I think it won’t hurt to see what they say.”</p><p>“I can tell you now,” she said, her voice trembling as she stood up. “It will discuss barbaric and cruel interpretations.” With that, she flounced out of the room, making a beeline for the kitchenette where employees liked to have lunch. Malfoy seriously had not changed, she thought grimly as she summoned an apple from the buffet, biting into the crisp skin. Just when she thought she could get through this without wanting to throttle him, just when she was hopeful that they would get along given they did not have any fights save the occasional snark, he went ahead to do this. </p><p>She stress-ate the apple entirely. When she returned, he was carefully assembling his books into his satchel.</p><p>“You do what you want,” her tone was low as she packed her briefcase with a smooth flick of her wand. “I will not help you with that.”</p><p>“Granger, do you think if I could access the books myself, I would have consulted you?” His arms were crossed, his entire body stiff as he avoided her eyes. </p><p>“What do you mean?” </p><p>He looked at her coldly. “I cannot access the Manor’s library myself. I would need you to gain approval for it and accompany me so it is sanctioned.”</p><p>She stared at him, feeling slightly dazed. The scar that his aunt had left was stinging her now and she felt a little breathless. Accompany him to the Manor? He had lost it. </p><p>“I don’t think I can do that,” she said quietly. “And I am not shocked you feel entitled enough to ask me of that.”</p><p>He flinched. Without a word, she headed towards the lift, ignoring his protest. She did not want to listen to anything he had to say. She pressed the call button, wishing the clanging apparatus would hurry up. It was taking so long that Draco would be at her side in no time. </p><p>As predicted, he joined her in the lift. They stood in silence, Hermione scowling as she eyed his satchel - probably full of his precious Dark Arts books while he stared straight ahead. When the doors slid open, she was so startled by the flash that blinded her eyes, she bumped into him. Her nose collided painfully with his back, her eyes watering. </p><p>Gripping the bruised appendage, she tried to make sense of what was happening. Reporters with flash cameras were crowded in the reception, screaming questions at her. <em> HERMIONE, WHAT IS IT LIKE TO WORK WITH AN EX DEATH EATER? HERMIONE, HAS HE REALLY CHANGED? WHAT DO YOU THINK OF HIM WORKING HERE? MALFOY, HOW DOES IT FEEL TO BE GIVEN A CHANCE?  </em></p><p>She glanced at Draco who did not look surprised, in fact, he had an expectant expression. Did he call them? Bristling, she squared her shoulders, the crowd quieting once they realised they were about to get responses. </p><p>“I am thrilled to work here with the <em> Brightest Witch of Our Age, </em>” said Draco, smiling down at her but she could see a familiar glinting in his eyes. “I cannot wait to learn more from her.”</p><p>While the words were kind, she could feel the mocking edge he had instilled in them. How dare he, she fumed. How dare he invite the media to make a spectacle of her just to make himself look good? “Malfoy has always come second after me in school so it is not surprising he is here in the workforce right after me too,” she said, grabbing the attention of the nearest reporter who snapped a photo of her with a flash so blinding, she saw spots. </p><p>She heard his drawling voice. “A very <em> good </em>teacher, so good I am surprised she is not at Hogwarts-”</p><p>“Completely <em> devoted </em> to his new job, yes, he has taken it on very <em> finely- </em>”</p><p>“So <em> brilliant </em>that a new department had to be created for her-”</p><p>“The only one to <em> pass </em>the test for this job, I set it and it was difficult-”</p><p>“So <em> dedicated, </em>I am surprised she has time for a life-”</p><p>“Just impressed me with his <em> commitment </em>to this-”</p><p>This time, a camera blinded them both. Hermione hadn’t realised it but they had both moved to stand together, tight smiles on their faces as they spoke of the other. Blinking, she waved off any more comments, hurrying to the Apparition spot. She had to follow after Malfoy; he was tall enough that he could manage to get through the crowds and not get jostled while she needed to hurry in his wake so as to avoid getting trampled. </p><p>The spot was isolated and empty, she slammed the door shut as another flash went off. Draco was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed, a petulant expression on his face. Realising she was mimicking his pose, she fixed her collar and patted her hair, still scowling. </p><p>“How could you do that?” they both said at the same time, his hands fisted at his sides while hers were gripping her wand. </p><p>“I only said those things because you started it.” She didn’t notice it but they had stepped closer together, her finger poking his chest. </p><p>“I only did what I thought you wanted!” He jerked at the collar on his throat, then pressed his hand to the nape of his neck. </p><p>She laughed darkly. “What I wanted? For fuck’s sake, Malfoy. Where on earth did you get the idea that I wanted that?”</p><p>“Should I have said something else?” His face was impassive as he gazed down at her. Not for the first time, Hermione wished she was wearing heels so she could meet his eye properly. </p><p>“You should have said nothing,” she hissed, giving up on her hair and it fluttered around her.</p><p>His jaw clenched. “Oh, I see, I didn’t get the instructions that it’s only you who should be doing the talking. Guess I’m just an accessory and a token  to flaunt around.”</p><p>Hermione stared up at him, feeling a crick in her neck from the angle but she would not cower down. “What are you on about?” she demanded. “If you had said nothing, I would have said nothing. But now, thanks to you, this is going on the first page of every magazine ever.” </p><p>She began pacing, her hair whipping near his face every time she turned away from him. </p><p>“Yes, such a pity that it won’t work for the tolerant society ideal you want to propagate,” he sneered suddenly. Hermione stilled, turning to look at him but he had already disappeared. He'd clearly overheard what she had said to Mason all those months ago. With a huff, she disapparated, appearing in front of her door. </p><p>The wards around her flat tensed before recognising her magical signature and letting her in. She dropped her keys into a bowl by the doorway and placed her briefcase on her desk. Crookshanks wrapped himself around her leg, mewling and she picked him up, kissing his wet nose. She shuffled cat food into his bowl and collapsed on her couch. Just how was she going to get Malfoy to believe her now? </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, credit due where credit is due to Ms JK Rowling. </p><p>Reviews make my day, just by the way.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>